


This Life

by TCD



Series: My Comforter 'Verse [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Bobby and Gemma Plot, C'mon boys just get it together, Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Kink, Double Entendre, Fluff and Crack, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Juice can be a hot mess, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pie, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smoking, Tumblr Prompt, canon typical homophobia, idk i'm just writing to stay off of facebook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8513803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCD/pseuds/TCD
Summary: Chibs likes Juice. Juice likes Chibs. Unfortunately Chibs has a personal rule: no fucking prospects. Poor Chibs. Poor Juice. Poor the rest of the Club.





	1. Riding Through This World/All Alone: Chibs

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the My Comforter verse, though as this is when Juice is a prospect it's basically canon to the show. Basically. Kind of. Not really. I just needed to write something happy today. Not beta'd. Not even edited that heavily. Title, and chapter titles, from the SoA theme song. Major warning tags will change depending on how this goes, because I have no idea where. Rating too may change.
> 
> If y'all want to chat SoA, my writing, your writing, whatever, hit me up on my [Sons Of Anarchy blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ineedthesons)! NSFW, 18+ please.

The new prospect was _young_. Couldn't have been older than 25, if that. And he'd been hanging around for a year, so Chibs thought he would have gotten used to it. On the other hand he rarely looked at the hopeful men who wanted to join the Sons of Anarchy, just to keep from developing any particular attachment to any of them.

Jax had no such restraint and he'd pushed for this one hard. Pointed out his potential; his easy expertise in all things computer that they could use to bring the Club into the 21st century. Certainly he was a bit of a tryhard but that just meant that he could take a lot more bullshit in pursuit of his goal. Theoretically, anyway. Sometimes the ones you would most expect to stay, ghosted when it became too much.

But the kid, Juice, he'd so far held up. Case in point, Tig had just spent the last twenty minutes throwing his bedsheets back into the hallway, griping at him about how he couldn't keep his goddamn room clean and we ain't your mother I sucked your mama's dick, blah blah blah that Tig always ranted about, and now Juice was just picking the stuff up to set back into his dorm. “Oh, and by the way prospect I flooded the toilet. Mop's down the hallway.” Tig grinned nastily and walked away whistling. “Heyy Chibby.”

Tig was Chib's brother but sometimes he wanted to deck the guy and this was one of those times. “Ye know if ye keep chasin' the prospects away, we're never gonna grow, right?”

“Ah, shit if they can't handle me they don't deserve the Sons. 'Sides that one likes bein' chased.” Tig rose his arm and bent it at the wrist, the silent gesture for being gay. Which was fine, as long as you didn't take it up the ass. Tig certainly didn't care how he got off, and even Chibs could see the enjoyment of both men and women. “If he don't make the cut maybe I'll show him to my favorite back alley.”

Chibs rolled his eyes and was about to respond when Clay stuck his head out of the chapel. “Trager! Get your ass in here!”

“Ehheh. Duty calls.” Tig turned slightly and blew a kiss to the young man, who dropped his eyes and seemed to blush. Chibs felt a strange surge of upset from deep in his gut. He shouldn't care but for some reason Tig's half-flirting, half-taunting that was his usual style just annoyed the man when directed at the prospect.

He stepped closer to Juice, seeing that the blush extended up to those ridiculous head tattoos. “Don' worry 'bout him, boyo.”

Juice looked up and _goddamn_ he had a brilliant smile. This was Very Bad. Chibs adored an amazing smile. “Nah, jus' part of the dues. I get it.” It sounded a little rehearsed, like it was something he'd told himself over and over but whatever you had to do. The hazing would probably taper off in a couple of months, anyway, though Chibs wasn't going to tell him that. “'S Chibs, right? Anythin' I can do for you?” He'd apparently taken the instruction to do whatever full patches told him to do to heart. Even trying to anticipate them. Smart boy. “I mean, long as it c'n wait til I get the bathroom fixed.” Juice wrinkled his nose and Chibs caught the small movement of his hands, like he was washing them.

“Nah, jus' stop bouncin'.” Juice had started rolling up onto the balls of his feet. It was an odd tic, a twitch that didn't seem to go away unless he was called out on it. He stopped immediately and Chibs glanced past him into the dorm room. Just to see if Tig's temper tantrum-slash-flirting was justified and, if he were honest with himself, because he was curious. Aside from the torn-apart bed, it was immaculate.

Too much so and Chibs stepped by him to look in more. Everything was ruler straight and it didn't look like there was a speck of dust on any flat surface. There was a lot of personality though, it wasn't sterile by any means. Chibs could see the picture of a motorcycle hanging on the mirror and what looked like a spreadsheet under it. A couple of posters of pretty girls hung on the walls it seemed to Chibs it was more for casual passer-by to see than Juice himself. He wondered if Tig had been right, if Juice was gay and hiding it.The boy's laptop sat there too, closed partway like he'd been interrupted by Tig while browsing. “I got OCD.” Juice piped up from behind him and Chibs turned to look at him. “Gotta be clean. Organized. Otherwise things go wrong.”

The Scot stared at him and then gestured for Juice to step back so he could leave the boy's room. “Wrong? An' jus' what are ye doin' _here_?” Trying to join an outlaw motorcycle club, for fuck's sake. It wasn't like the general public didn't know they were outlaw. They just officially, always denied it. Chibs watched as Juice turned, striding towards the closet they kept the mop bucket in. He didn't have anywhere to be, so he followed.

“I like _Easy Rider._ ” Juice twisted and worked to get the mop and plunger ready, and there was that goddamned grin again. Clearly the answer was to hide whatever reason he really had for going for the patch. He pulled on a set of big yellow dishwashing gloves and a rubber apron that Chibs didn't know they had. Happy must have left it there the last time he used it. No need to tell Juice what it was actually for, though.

Despite the flippancy of the response Chibs smiled crookedly back at him. Not a long smile, it brought too much attention to what Jimmy had done to him and Chibs hated that. “Ah, good'un. Ye ever watch _The Wild One_? Brando flick, 's pretty good if ye like those old movies.”

“I ain't seen it,” Juice clearly was thinking about it though as he dumped a bunch of floor cleaner into the water of the bucket, “but I'll stream it. Or try, the connection here is kinda...rough.” Again the younger man blushed and shut his mouth when he realized he was criticizing the Club. “Uh, sorry I gotta get this done 'fore someone else finds it.” Juice started to back away, clearly trying to make up for it.

Chibs followed him. “Ah, boyo. We _know_ an' we've been trying ta get Clay ta pony up for a better internet connection for a year now. D'ye know how hard it is to get any good porn in here?” Really, he just wanted to see Juice blush again, and that's what he did. Chibs should stop. He was a prospect, and Chibs had principles. Just a little teasing, though, get it out of his system. At least until Juice got patched in, or not. “Jesus _Christ_ Tig what th' 'ell?” They'd rounded the corner to the clubhouse bathroom and it was not a pleasant sight at all. Or smell. “I'm gonna skin 'is arse.” Chibs brought up his hand to his nose.

“Fuuck.” Juice shuddered in front of him. “I'm gonna be here all night.” He sighed, and turned around briefly disappearing for a moment before he came back. “Trick I picked up in Queens from a guy.” The boy pulled a disposable hospital mask from one pocket, and a jar of Vicks in the other. He smeared the Vicks into the mask and then tied it to his face. “Alright.” Chibs could tell that Juice was grinning again, with the way his eyes crinkled. “Wish me luck. If I don't make it, make sure to donate the cash I've been saving to a good cause. Like strippers. Or a better internet connection.”

“Savin' money, boyo?” Chibs stepped away from the bathroom; this was something that Juice was going to have to face on his own. “Fer what?” He probably had a little bit to spare. Juice worked at TM next store, and rent here in the clubhouse wasn't insane. Most guys, the prospects, tended to go crazy with it though. Be able to prove they could party hard with the club members. Juice did some of that as well but not as much as some had in the past. “Good on ye, by the way.”

Juice was coughing and gagging; apparently his trick didn't work 100%. He was finally able to take a breath inward. “Bike.” He valiantly started to mop up the mess so he could approach the toilet to unclog it.

Impressive. Not just Juice's dedication to cleaning up the bathroom but to getting his own wheels. Most guys didn't consider it til they were closer to patching in, when they were deeper into the club. “Aye? Which one ye lookin' at?”

“Dyna Super Glide.” Juice was able to gasp out as he worked. “Brand new, 'n then I get all the financing stuff and warranty and sh-shit like that.”

Chibs couldn't help the sound he made. Smart, with a brilliant smile, and when Juice bent over to get the corner mopped up Chibs found out he had a very nice ass too. _Damn._ “Though if I go used even by a year it'll be cheaper an' I c'n mod it, too.” Juice had passion for anything he set his head to; Jackson had clearly spotted it a mile away and convinced him to try to be a prospect. Their VP was damn good at his job.

“That's a good one, Juice.” Speak of the Devil, Jax was leaning against a wall close to his father's bike and as far from the other two as he could be without being rude. Clay and Tig were behind him, out from whatever closed door meeting they'd had in the Chapel. It must not have been that frustrating of a one because his hair fell neatly instead of being run through by his hands and messed up. “Though I hope you don't mind drivin' a cage, cuz that's what you get to do later today. _After_ you clean yourself up.”

Juice gave him a thumbs up and the eye crinkling smile again. “A'right.” He didn't even ask why or what, just had every intention on doing it. “Th' van, or?”

“Just helping my mom, grocery shopping for this place. So you'll drive her Suburban.” The rest of the men laughed around him and even Chibs couldn't help his own grin. Juice hadn't really gotten to know Gemma, and now he got to spend all afternoon with her. Lucky guy. “You got a piece?”

Owlishly Juice blinked, and then nodded. “Yeah. Uh, should I expect trouble?”

“Protocol, son.” Clay piped up from behind Jax. “Always expect trouble. Especially when you're takin' my wife anywhere you keep your head on a swivel at all times.”

Juice visibly swallowed and Chibs almost felt sorry for him. It was just another test, and he knew it, and he was clearly worried. “Got it. I'll finish this.”

“Just come find me and I'll text her when you're ready.” Jax grinned again and looked the bathroom up and down. “Have fun.” Then he turned, following the other two men down the hallway and towards the front door of the clubhouse.

The boy took a breath. Not a deep one, just a moment so that he could take in what had happened. Chibs felt that overprotective need again; goddamnit he was a perfectly capable prospect he didn't need this from the Scot. But it happened anyway. “Don' worry 'bout Gem, lad. She's not gonna pick on ye 'til you're a full patch.” Another grin and Juice gave a bit of one back. “Though she does have Clay's ear, an' if she doesn't like ye he'll know an' take that into account.” Chibs was serious, though he tried to sound light about it.

Juice made a sound that could only be a whimper, quickly cut off. Clearly he didn't want Chibs to think he was too weak for a quick little outing with the club queen bee. “Jus' be yerself, an' ye'll be fine.” The Scot leaned from his place where he'd parked himself just out of water range and fuzzed Juice's scalp. It was a little stubbly, but Chibs realized that he would want to do it again, softer and gentler if he stayed here, so he leaned back. “Bathroom's lookin' good, eh?”

Juice looked around himself; Chibs noticed the two spots of color on those cheekbones. “Could be better.” His fingers twitched like he was going to go back to the broom closet to grab more cleaning supplies.

“Nah, don' keep 'em waiting, Juicey. It'll be gross 'nuff inna few 'ours anyway.” The Scot laughed and gestured for Juice to head to the closet to pack the stuff away. He watched, and most assuredly didn't stare at that fine, tight ass as he followed the boy. Almost imagining it on one of the big bikes in front of him, framed by the kutte and the “California” bottom rocker. He had to violently shake his head to rid himself of the mental image. Getting too attached. Regardless Chibs was pleased to see that Juice took great care when cleaning and putting everything away. Organizing it into a slightly more effective set-up even if it wouldn't last more than a few days. “Atta boy.” He couldn't help the murmur that escaped him and was glad when Juice didn't seem to react.

Juice straightened once he was done and turned towards Chibs again. “A'right. I, uh, better get cleaned up.” He stuffed the mask in his pants pocket. “See you 'round, Chibs. Fact call me first if ya need anything” He flashed that amazing smile and then gingerly made his way back to his dorm room.

“Aye.” Chibs had to get out and think before he followed the younger man into the shower. He moved into the main lounge rubbing his face roughly. Get laid, by a woman. That's what he needed to do. It had been too long and that was why he was having inappropriate thoughts about the prospect. Of course there weren't any sweetbutts hanging around right now, just his luck.

Actually he had no luck at all, because in fact Bobby was sitting there, smirking his fool head off. Where he was situated, he must have seen the exchange at the broom closet. “Shaddup.” Chibs let out a growl as he went to pour himself a scotch.

“I didn't say nothin' at all, brother.” That smirk was still in place though as he heaved himself up to step up to the other side of the bar. “Though if you tap that it'll make him ineligible.”

Chibs slammed the drink down his throat, letting the burn take away the edge low in his belly. “'Es a prospect. I 'ave some standards, Elvis.” It was a harmless crush on his part. Juice was attractive, he wasn't going to deny himself admitting that, but that was all. A couple of highly inappropriate wanks with the boy as the star of the show and he'd be over it.

Bobby just chuckled in his face and sipped at his drink. He didn't say anything more about it, and Chibs almost thought the teasing conversation was over. Then Juice came out of the shower. His head was down, buried in his phone as he, presumably, texted Jax to let him know that he was on his way over to TM. The prospect kutte looked good on him and the flash of the daydream of Juice's ass on a bike came back to him. Bobby waved cheerily at the young man, receiving a distracted on in return. Chibs didn't even try, just watched as the young man exited the clubhouse ready for his next mission. “Yeah, right.” Bobby laughed again once the door slammed shut. “Gonna be a long year for you.”

In defeat Chibs took another drink. It really was. “What were th' bosses talkin' about?” He could have an inappropriate wank later. This was something to distract himself.

 


	2. The Crow Flies Straight/A Perfect Line: Juice

Juice took a steadying breath as he waited by the black Suburban. He looked every inch the tough, angry biker with his wraparound shades and buck knife hanging at his hip. Tucked into his waistband at his back was his Sig, which he'd made very sure didn't show beneath the black kutte which almost shone with the polish he'd put into it this morning sometime between waking up and having Tig tear apart his room again. He didn't think about that, about the work he'd have to do in making his bed neat again. And his other pair of boots, too. They were a disaster from working on the bathroom.

Juice allowed himself a flicker of a smile as he watched Clay and Gemma kiss. Chibs had kept him company, which had made the horribly disgusting job better. The other man seemed genuinely interested in _him_ as opposed to what he could accomplish. And he was hot, which was a bonus.

Not that he could let anyone really know it. You couldn't be a fag and be in the Sons. Or at least until you got the bottom rocker. Then it didn't seem to matter, judging by Tig's constant trying to hump him or anything that moved. (And a few that didn't.) But Juice had another year and he could make it until then. At least now he had a face to go with his fantasies of who was going to be his first guy. “Prospect, remember what I told ya.” Clay and Gemma had finally come to the vehicle fingers tangled together. “Eyes on a swivel.”

“Course, Clay.” Juice took the moment to look at Gemma. They could look just about eye to eye with each other, and that's exactly where he kept his eyes. “Ma'am.”

“Oh, please do not.” She pulled down her own sunglasses to stare at him. “Gem, please. You don't get to call me Mama either, just so you know in advance.” The brunette looked at Clay, who grinned back at her. “What is he, twelve?”

The President looked to Juice, and then back to his wife with a smirk and a shrug. “We're spread a little thin, baby, what can I say?” It was a lie, and everyone involved knew it. Juice just stood where he was, trying to capture the zen feeling he had while cleaning and talking with Chibs. He'd felt, briefly, like he had a family.

“Fine. But if he needs a bottle or a Happy Meal in between our grocery runs I'm putting it on the Club credit card.” Clay laughed, but Gemma didn't as she swept around the two men to get into the driver's side. Apparently she was driving, and Clay briefly opened his mouth to object to that. In the end though he just saluted Juice and walked away.

Juice thought himself intelligent, but sometimes he knew he had a bit of a mouth on him that ran away. He'd been good, up until now. Once he was settled, the gun digging into his back, he glanced to the queen sitting beside him and smiled. “Long as I get the boy toy. The girl toys just aren't as cool.”

Gemma turned to stare at him and there was a long beat in which Juice started to panic. He should have kept his mouth shut, she's going to take that personally. She'd tell Clay and he'd be out on his ass, “Agreed. Take off your sunglasses, hate it when you boys wear them in the car. Can't ever tell if you're staring.” Her tone had almost gentled as she turned out of TM's parking lot down the street.

He doubted that. Gem was sharp; she'd be able to know if she was being harassed. Juice did as he was ordered though and tucked his sunglasses into his inside pocket. “So...” Juice had no idea what was his problem; Gemma was, as far as a boss went, easy to get along with. Long as you kept your head down and your mouth shut and were good with your work. But this was different. This was Club business.

Luckily Gemma saved him by flicking on the radio. Pretty clear what he was meant to do. Sit in silence. Keep watch. Juice could do that on the short drive. He set up an easy scan; ahead, right mirror, rear-view. Left mirror when he could do it without looking anywhere near Gemma's tits, which was difficult at best but he didn't want to be one of _those_ prospects. Now, if it were Chibs, he'd be sneaking looks as much as he could. He had to be well muscled, most of the full patches were. And that accent, it was _illegal_ the things it did to him. Maybe Juice could spend some time talking about Club stuff, just to be able to listen.

“Whatcha grinnin' about, Juice?” Gemma stopped humming along with the music as she pulled into the local grocery store. She turned the Suburban off but before getting out she leveled another look at him.

Busted. “Uh. Oh, just. You know, something Tig and Chibs said. 'Bout the internet in the Clubhouse.”

Gemma huffed as she got out, and Juice did as well. He scanned the parking lot as he joined up with her, grabbing a stray cart as he did so. “Yeah, they've been houndin' Clay for months about it. He pays way too much for some, I dunno, shit that's linked to the cell phones. It ain't fast but it's private and that's what we need.” She pulled out a list from her purse as they entered into the lightly air-conditioned space. “Think they'd understand that, but.” Gemma's laugh was rather sweet now. “Men and their porn. But it keeps Luann in a good place, so I can't really complain, I guess.”

Juice kept quiet, for a moment. He could _maybe_ fix the internet speed issue, if he got a look at it. Impress the guys, doing that. Could even keep the privacy intact. Juice made himself focus on the grocery shopping, looking around as he was supposed to. Let his mind stew on the other problem. “'S not like there's not plenty of women around off of the internet. Runnin' the gauntlet of sweetbutts every time I need t'run to my room.”

The queen laughed, and turned down the produce aisle. “You do chili, baby? Only way I can make Tig eat his vegetables but he's tired of my recipe.”

“Rude.” Juice waved his hand in a so-so motion. “Make a mean shakshouka though. Could throw veggies in there.”

“A what?” Gemma looked at him incredulously as she set in the biggest bags of salads she could find.

“Uh. Tunisian Jewish eggs and tomatoes all stewed together. Like—like _huevos rancheros._ But from North Africa.” It wasn't quite the same, but it was the closest thing that he could connect to the dish from his childhood. “And it's breakfasty and keeps well and--” His mouth was running away with him again under Gemma's intense gaze.

She shook her head though, with a laugh. “You and Chibs can eat all that foreign shit together. He likes to cook.” Cart full of the produce that Gemma was going to buy she navigated them towards the dairy aisle. Of course in went full-fat milk and creamer; Juice was going to have to step up his running workout to accommodate. He'd already done so once but seeing it again was setting off all kinds of alarm bells in his mind. If he didn't get it under control, Juice wasn't going to make the rest of the trip without doing something stupid. He had to focus. And Chibs was the first thing that came to mind. Of course the Scot could cook, he was already perfect so this was just part of that. Maybe Juice could make him shakshouka after a long night. “C'mon, babyface. Let's keep it moving.”

He'd gotten lost in his head. “Sorry, Gemma.” Juice followed her to the meat counter, watching her buy an enormous amount of ground beef, chicken legs, and sausages. Eggs, too, by the five dozen case. “Glad I gave up vegetarianism.” He muttered but Gemma had apparently heard him judging by the laughter.

“I'll keep that one quiet. Alright, last thing is desserts.”

“Yes, please.” Juice couldn't help the blush that crawled out of the collar of the kutte. He really, really liked dessert and he might have said it too quickly. “Uh.” Gemma just laughed harder and Juice just resigned to hearing about it from the rest of the Club, later. The cart wheel squeaked a few times as he turned it to follow her. “I like pie?”

“You and Happy's mama.” The queen said between smirks and looks at him. Juice couldn't tell if she was just pitying his idiocy and playing along, or if she actually liked him. “Apple for her, and you, baby?”

Juice just grinned because he wasn't sure what else to do. If this was a trap, or if it wasn't. Best play along; if she was fucking with him the worst that would happen is he'd get laughed at. “Strawberry-rhubarb.” He braced himself waiting for more commentary.

Instead Gemma just smiled brightly, though there was something mischievous in her eyes that he couldn't read. “Oh, really now? You and Chibs, seems like you two could be two peas in a pod. Gives me an excuse to bake, if there's going to be more than one person to eat it. French silk alright for you for now, baby?” When he gave her his confirmation that that would be perfect, she pulled out two five gallon containers of ice cream; chocolate and vanilla. Gemma leaned down to him as she stuck them in the cart. “The rest of them are just terribly uninspired.” Now that was a test, and Juice flicked his eyes across the aisle to see if there was anything else they needed. Well away from Gemma's chest. Also to make sure no one was following them.

Apparently pleased he wasn't taking the bait Gemma took the pressure off and stepped back. “Mm, I think that's all here.” She strode off and Juice had to scramble a bit to follow her. “Liquor store next, where we get to buy half the damn store because Clay can't be assed to remember to tell me what he wants me to buy.” There was fondness, there, and a small part of Juice wondered if he'd ever get to have someone who would speak of him like that. Chibs would be fun, but unlikely.

He shook his head and once more pushed his mind to a different direction. “We're out of beer; Bud's gone fastest but I don't think that really matters much. PBR's usually pretty cheap. Chibs was drinking scotch, maybe about a bottle and a half left, and we're down to our last bottle of vodka and Everclear and I think we've been going through about a bottle a night. They. They have. I've just been pouring.” Juice pulled the cart up to the checkout belt and started loading it for Gemma. He was pretty sure he'd gotten the patched members preferences. He fended for himself, drinking a beer of his own but usually no more. He preferred other chemicals. Needed to get some of them, too. Next day off was Saturday and the day before was payday so he could manage a little something. Juice couldn't help the flicker of a smile; maybe he and Chibs could share a joint and watch one of those old movies they were talking about. After he fixed the wi-fi. “Oh, Clay's about outta cigars at least in the box behind the bar. You'd probably know better which ones he likes. What?”

Gemma was staring at him again. “You got a good head for numbers, baby.”

Again the blush crept up under his collar. “Like I said. I just pour.” It was pretty obvious by her look that she didn't believe him, but neither said anything. Gemma paid for the groceries, and Juice bagged and loaded them back into the cart.

When they were back into the SUV, Gemma driving once again, she started humming to herself. “Cuban, when we can get them.” Juice looked at her; he'd been staring out the window. “The box under the bar's this Nicaraguan one that's 160 bucks for twenty.” She shook her head, that fond laugh again. “We have our vices, mm?”

Juice cringed at the price. “Yeah but I'll stick with my Marlboros.” And other smokeable things. He didn't want to mention them. Just in case there was a problem with him as a prospect doing it.

“You and Jackson.” She pulled into the parking lot of the liquor store down the road from TM. “I'll tell you the same thing I tell him, should quit that habit. Terrible for you.”

Always, it seemed, the mother and it made Juice smile a little. He got out and followed her, of course, after checking to make sure the parking lot was clear of any danger. “Only a coupla packs a week.” Though he knew she was right about it being bad for him. He'd cut it down. Would make his future harder workouts easier too. One pack today, while they were in the liquor store. Easiest, after all, to step down as opposed to quitting cold turkey. “What do the rest of the guys smoke?” Juice could top them off too.

“They'll be alright, Juice. Can't get them everything you know.” She smiled back at him as she grabbed the cart this time. “And if you kiss their ass this obviously you'll only regret it.”

Juice blushed. Again. “Got it.” He'd need to work on his poker face; really he'd only wanted to get Chibs whatever he favored but just doing that for him would have been too obvious. “Gotta let 'em have their vices?” Juice grinned at her conspiratorially as he opened one of the fridge doors to get a couple cases of Bud, followed by a couple cases of Coors. The men went through a lot of beer. More if there was a party planned; Juice was fairly certain that there wasn't one this week. He hauled them to the cart; Gemma was standing in front of the scotches. “Chibs likes that one.” Without thinking he set the cases in the basket and gestured to one. It wasn't too expensive, and what Juice had tasted of it was fairly delicious. That had been fun; shortly after they asked him to prospect he'd gotten to get hammered with them.

Gemma rose a groomed eyebrow at him as she picked the bottle up and set it into the cart. Juice could see that there were wheels turning in her mind. It was probably not a good thing. He knew how devious she could be. Of course he couldn't help the heat in his cheeks and he set about getting the rest of the liquor bottles. While he was contemplating whether or not to get the mid-shelf vodka or the bottom shelf vodka-- they drank immense quantities but they often drank it straight-- the solution to the internet problem popped into his head, and Juice grinned. It would be easy enough; could probably do it in an evening, even. “All done, baby?” Gemma snuck up behind him, but he prided himself on not jumping.

“Yep.” He set two bottles of the mid-shelf in the cart and dramatically gestured for her to go first, hoping to make her smile. To his delight, she did.

“This all, Gemma? Or do you want to add your usual?” The man behind the counter was older, maybe Sheriff Unser's age. “Lucky Strikes?”

She nodded, and then gestured to Juice as he set the alcohol onto the counter. “And whatever he wants, Carl.” Gemma glanced and smirked again. “I know he looks about twelve, d'you need to see his I.D.?”

They both laughed to Juice's red face and Carl looked to him. “Uh, Marlboro Reds.” The man tossed a pack down from its spot on the wall, as well as Gemma's Lucky Strikes. Juice would remember that for next time she needed some. Some stupid part of him wanted to point out her hypocritical stance on the smokes, but the smart part of him told him to keep his mouth shut. “Thanks, Gemma.” Juice tucked the pack into his kutte, behind the sunglasses.

“Call it your happy meal.” Gemma leaned in and spoke low into his ear after the transaction was all done and he was re-loading the cart. “Usually in there for damn near ever. No one tells me what they want.” This time Juice pushed as they left the liquor store. Gemma lit a smoke and puffed on it while she watched him set their purchases into the trunk, careful to keep the groceries from getting crushed. “Thank you, babyface, you were a big help.”

“Welcome.” He didn't start one, just leaned against the Suburban while she finished. Juice tried not to preen too much at the praise but he knew himself. He was a sucker for it. They climbed into their respective seats once Gemma was done. It had been a good day; no one had jumped them and he'd been useful to Gemma. After he returned he was going to be useful to the Club; fixing their internet would make them pleased. Juice just wasn't going to make a big deal of it. Not tell them. If they asked, certainly he'd fess up but not before then. Then he couldn't be accused of ass-kissing.

Juice didn't notice the smile on Gemma's face as she drove them back to TM. Just listened to her humming and kept his eyes moving for suspicious vehicles, though he had an inkling that Clay had been having him on. Certainly at some point in the past they'd needed to be eagle-eyed, and they might in the future, but right then had been safe. Juice was coming into the Club at a good time. Gemma pulled them in, and they were greeted by the rest of the men. “Go bring your shit in and let the boy have a smoke.” The queen gestured at the trunk as she popped it open remotely. “We didn't even need to stop at Mickey D's.” Clay was puffing on a cigar; and he grinned crooked at her.

“ _Yes Mom._ ” There was a chorus and raucous laughter from the club as they grabbed the bags of groceries and alcohol. Juice finally did tap the box of smokes against his hands. He could hear the rest of the men and their compliments to the woman drifting past him; Jax winked at him and lightly bumped his shoulder while he carried a case of Bud into the clubhouse. The VP clearly knew that Juice had done a lot, somehow. Really it was Jax's special gift to be able to see into someone and _know_ them. That was how he'd gotten Juice to move to Charming, after all.

“Ah, Juicey boy.” That accent made his head come up from the flame on his lighter. “Ye an' Gemma spoil us.” Chibs was grinning, holding the bottle of his scotch and the bag Juice knew had the pies in there. Pie, singular; he spotted Happy carrying the apple one in with a reverence one only saw related to religious artifacts. “Thank ye.”

Juice puffed slowly, blowing over away from Chibs' face. He shrugged, trying to look casual even as his heart sang. Of course the Scot had to continue. “We go' church tomorrow,” he meant the patched members though Juice would have to hang around, “bu' after do ye wanna sit an' share a slice?”

Like the dork he was, Juice coughed as his brain caught up with the question, and then supplied a mental image of him and Chibs sharing literally one single slice which followed with kissing. “Yeah.” He managed to grin against Chibs' concerned look. “'Course. Ain't gonna let you take all the strawberry-rhubarb Gemma said she'd make.”

Chibs stared at him for one long second and then laughed. “Alright, boyo. Church's at 11. Jax said ye c'n take th' rest of th' night off.” Now he winked at Juice, but his smirk was directed towards Gemma teasing. “Quickest trip Mama made in f'rever, ye might be volunteerin' f'r the next ones too.”

“Make you boys shop for yourselves next time.” Gemma fired right back as Chibs slung an arm over Juice's shoulder. “You better cower, Chibby.”

Juice's heart thudded and wouldn't stop until Chibs released him. Then it seemed to stutter as Chibs pressed a kiss to his temple, friendly. It was only then he realized that the other man was drunk already, so it might not have meant to him what it was meaning to Juice. He couldn't think of it, just willed his heart to slow. It did, but it was still fluttering in happiness. “A'right, see ye tomorrow Juicey.” He wandered back into the clubhouse, still holding his groceries. The younger man puffed again on the smoke, looking down as he did so. He could have the internet fixed by early morning, long as he started work on it after this. And then after that they could share the last of his weed and watch old movies. Juice knew himself. He worked best with a plan and now he had one. His mind returned to the internet problem as he finished his smoke and stubbed it out before he stuck the butt into the designated bucket of sand. That was his job to change; it looked like it could be put off till tomorrow too.

Right now, he needed to get to his laptop.

 


	3. God Takes Your Soul/ You're On You're Own: Chibs

“Alright, anything else?” Clay drawled at the head of the ancient-seeming table. Church had been ridiculously boring, in Chibs' opinion. Maybe it was because he was looking forward to after, when he could share a meal and a drink with Juice. Or he'd enjoyed before, when he'd had very pleasant dreams about that tattooed brown head.

The men around him shook their heads, ready to go. Tig, of course, had to speak up though. “Clay, I just gotta tell ya. I'm really, _really_ pleased that you finally decided to get a not-shitty connection in here. 'Amy's Anal Antics 7' was just, it was top-notch this morning.” He clapped enthusiastically, though he was the only one. No one really needed to know what Tig jerked off too though Chibs had noticed it when he was checking his email.

Clay stared at him. “I...didn't.” Now the table went very quiet. “Find out what the shit's goin' on. I don't like unknowns.”

It wasn't unknown, not to Chibs. He and Juice had mutually bitched about the internet connection, and now it was fixed? The boy was brought into the club for that sort of thing. Chibs would talk to Juice before he told Clay, though. Give him a chance to fess up himself.

Juice was sitting on the pool table, swinging his legs as much as he could while he fiddled with the phones in the old cigar box. Straightening them; seemed like he was organizing them by size. And then by shape. Juice jumped when Tig pulled the box out of his hands with an almost-growl. “Sorry.” Juice's smile was more a grin of fear at the other man, watching as Tig set the box down beside him. “Hey Chibs!” In a flash the boy relaxed and Chibs' heart fluttered. Amazing how the prospect acted with him. “Here's yours.” Without looking Juice picked up his phone and held it out to him. Maybe a bit too try-hard, but Chibs thought it was kind of cute.

Not that he _should._ It just was. “Thanks, boyo,” Chibs stuck it inside his kutte, “So, ye wanna 'ave some o' that pie?” He held out his hand, letting the younger man take it and hop down. Tig, who was still nearby, wolf-whistled. “Don' ye have sommat to do, Tig?” Chibs gave him the stink-eye, hoping that Tig would leave them alone.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tig waved. “Enjoy that shit. Ow! Gem!”

The queen, dropping off the strawberry-rhubarb pie, had apparently heard him as they both stepped out of the clubhouse and gave him a boxing about his ears. Chibs laughed, and even Juice giggled a little bit. He slung an arm over the boy's shoulders now that they were alone, and half-dragged him towards the kitchens. Juice wiggled away and got into the fridge before Chibs had a chance, and was clearly giving the other man an eyeful of that beautiful tight ass. Chibs had to hold his tongue, keep from teasing Juice about being a cocktease like some of the blondes that hung around the clubhouse. The other man straightened and set the pie down on the counter, digging for the cutting knife in each of the drawers before he found it. “Anythin' interesting at church?” Juice grinned before he turned to slice the pie into eight perfect pieces.

“No' tha' I can tell ye, boyo.” Chibs perched on one of the stools, resting his hands on the island. “Well, almost nothin'.” He pointed at once of the cabinets. “That'un. Fer plates.”

Juice grabbed two, and set two slices each on them. He sat down next to Chibs, the plates in front of them. “Pick?”

It didn't matter much to Chibs but he grabbed one recognizing that Juice was trying to be fair. “So almos' nothin'?” The boy dug his fork into his piece, humming in pleasure at the taste. Still cute.

“Mm.” Chibs took a bite out of the tart pastry. Delicious; Gemma was so good to all of them not just Clay. The Scot glanced out of the kitchen door making sure no one was coming in to bother them. “Damndest thing, boyo.” He ate another piece, keeping a half an eye on Juice to see his reaction. “God almighty 'imself help us, but Tigger noticed 'is porn was runnin' better in here. An' I dinnae have t'wait ten minutes f'r my email t'show up.”

Juice paused for a brief moment, and then shoveled another bite into his mouth. The boy hunched over, and Chibs knew his suspicions were right. “Y-yeah?”

He couldn't help but smile a crooked smile. Boy was going to have to learn how to lie a little bit better. Not to them, of course, but in general. “Oh yeah.” Chibs now got up, and dug into the fridge. He pulled out a can of whipped cream; he wanted to keep it casual and relaxed for them both. “Or ice cream?”

“Didn't warm up th' pie. Whipped cream.” Juice had looked up and was now grinning at the other man. “So, th' net's better? What happened, Clay get it fixed?” He pushed the plate over and Chibs squirted some whipped cream on it. He had to ignore Juice's teasing smirk.

Chibs stuck the whipped cream back into the fridge. “Ah, well, no' exactly boyo.” He turned back around; his mouth went dry and his brain went blank for a few seconds when he saw what Juice was doing. The fucking tease was slowly, too slowly, licking the whipped cream off of his fork. “Shite.” Chibs couldn't help the quiet sound that came out of him. This _had_ to stop, though his masturbatory fantasies just expanded a little bit more. He came back around the island and plopped down next to the boy. “Juicey.” It came out as a growl, but he didn't _mean_ it to be like that. It did send his heart fluttering some to see the shudder that Juice couldn't suppress. “Ye an' I both know wha' happened ta the internet.”

He'd tried to keep his tone gentle even with the growl, but still Juice hunched his shoulders over and stared down at his pie. “Ye cannae keep secrets, Juicey.” Chibs reached and this time he didn't hold back from gently fuzzing the boy's scalp. “Not even th' good kind.” He understood why the boy did it. Just trying to be helpful without being too obvious about it. “It ain't the end of the world, Juicey.” The sad, kicked-puppy look on the other prospect's face kind of hurt somewhere deep in his gut. “Jus' talk tae Clay 'bout it. Own up. Long as it ain' costin' th' Club money he shouldn' be too upset with ya.”

Juice sighed and Chibs was glad to see him stop picking at the pie. “Tell ya what, boyo.” Chibs clapped him on the shoulder. “We'll finish this, find th' boss an' ye'll tell him, then we'll find an ol' movie te watch on th' new improved connection.” Assuming of course that Clay didn't make him take it down. Maybe share some weed with the kid while they watched the movie down. Wind him down from his tension.

It occurred to Chibs that he might have been getting too close, that he might have been leading Juice on, but those thoughts vanished when Juice cracked that perfect smile again. He could keep it in his pants. If things started getting too hot and heavy, or there was too much flirting they'd tune it back. Or he'd explain the rules. Good enough. “Okay. Just don't abandon me to Clay.” That grin was still there but Chibs could see that there was real fear to it.

“Nah. Jus' finish yer pie, boyo.” His own was warming up too much, so he chowed down. Time to bring the conversation away from serious things again. “So 'ow was yer trip with Gemma?”

Juice swallowed, tongue darting out to lick up some whipped cream. “Good. Back woke up all sore though.” The scrunch with his nose, Chibs stared at it briefly. “From sittin' with the gun more than I'm used to.”

Chibs laughed and shook his head, taking another bite of the pie himself. “Lucky ye didn't blow yer bollocks off, Juice. Gemma c'n 'ave some fierce road rage. We'll get ye a holster f'r next time, got it?” It would just be awful if that lovely arse was injured. “Wearin' 'em at yer side's easier when yer ridin' in a car.”

“Good to know.” Juice licked a bit of whipped cream off of his lips, and this time it didn't look like he was trying to be sexy about it. Even without that, it was cute. “Still, any good massage places in town? I've looked but maybe you know some.” He paused, holding the fork halfway to his mouth. “Wait. Not. Not _that_ kind of massage place. With happy endings. I swear, that's not what I meant.”

He couldn't keep the laughter held back, and Chibs had to set his own fork down. Juice was blushing deeply now, still stammering apologies. “N-no boyo, yer a'right.” Chibs pat him on the back and then ran his hand over the boy's scalp. “I knew what ya meant.” Though if he considered it, giving Juice one of _those_ massages with included happy ending would be one hell of a start to a fun evening. More for the spank bank; Chibs might die from too much masturbation by the end of the week. Forget going a year. Come to think of it, he did know of a good place. “An' yeah, I do. Have a gift certificate there, iffin ye like to try it out.” He didn't mention that it was a couples certificate. A funny “joke” from Jax some time back. Just a pair of friends, going out to relax. That's all it would be. “Free next week if ye wanna go.”

Juice now stuffed his mouth with the last of the first piece of pie. “Uh huh. Sure.” He swallowed. “Long 's you don't have nothin' better to do. Or planned. Or club shit doesn't come up.”

“That goes without sayin', Juicey. Th' club shit, I mean.” Before the boy could worry about the rest of it. It made Chibs smile a little though, the younger man's otherwise easy acceptance of his invitation. “I'll text ye details, alright?” Now it was time for a topic change. “Didn' ask ye yesterday, but how long d'ye think it'll take f'r ye to save up f'r yer bike?” Chibs was curious; he assumed Juice had gotten that planned out as well.

His assumptions were right. “Bout a year from a coupla months ago. Long as my income an' expenses don't change much.” Juice shrugged, an odd roll of his shoulders and head, then grinned. “'Bout the time I get patched in, I'll have the cash.”

“That's the spirit, boyo!” Chibs clapped him on the back again; of course he could always _not_ get patched in but better to assume he was going to be. “Took me, eh, a year an' a half. I mean, though it w's different. Harleys are much more expensive in Ireland wi' th' import fees an' taxes. An' then I had to sell 'er to fly here.” He sighed, and hopefully it wasn't too over-dramatic. “Didn't have to wait long ta get another, this one here but ya never f'rget yer first.” Whoops, he didn't mean the double entendre there. Luckily the boy missed it, and instead lightly patted him on the back. “You'll understand, Juicey. Once ye get yer wheels.”

“Hope I never lose 'em, though.” Juice started in on the pie again, and they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes eating. “Hard to switch, from the left to the right?”

Curious as a kitten the boy was, but Chibs kinda liked it. He waved his fork in a so-so motion. “Took a bit but I got th' hang of it. Fortunately ridin' isn't too much different aide from th' side of th' road, but drivin'? Tha' took a lot longer.” It dawned on the Scot that Juice was just asking questions to hear him speak. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd pulled a piece of ass based on his accent. Hell of a power, it amused him even as he knew others got annoyed by it. “'M not one of those fuckin' tourists 'ere on a holiday,” Chibs turned up the lilt to his voice, “ride 'round Disneyland boyo, ye'll spot 'em in a second hoggin' up th' right lane an' ignorin' any attempts at gettin' 'em to move over.” He shook his head. “Or they're ridin' yer tailpipe in th' left hand lane.”

Juice was staring at him as he talked, slowing down in his eating. Chibs knew he was on the right track as he watched Juice swallow slow. “Can't imagine it's not the same when Americans go to the UK.”

“You have no idea, Juicey. An' ye all are terrible shites about it too.”

“Some things are just universal, I guess.” Juice gave him that brilliant smile and then stuck the last bite of his pie in his mouth. “We're assholes no matter where we go.” He hummed and glanced over at the other half of the pie, still sitting on the counter. Clearly considering having another slice. “That was so fuckin' good. Gotta thank Gemma.”

That was the perfect segue. Chibs couldn't have set it up better himself. “She's probably outside wi' Clay.” He finished up his pie, and then picked up both of their plates and forks. “Nope, I didn' f'rget Juicey boy.” Chibs rinsed off the utensils, and then turned. “C'mon, I ain' askin' ya fer tea with the fuckin' monarchs.” He held out his hand and Juice groaned as he took it. “There ya go.” Chibs pulled him close and tossed his arm over Juice's shoulders. For a brief moment the boy leaned into it, and then wiggled away as he had before. Like he was afraid of the touch, afraid of what people might say. What the club might say. He'd have to get over it, Chibs huffed as he started to lead the way outside. They were, for all their 'no homo' commentary, a very tactile group of men. Hugging, leaning on each other, shaking hands and setting them on backs and even brawling were how they expressed themselves. Their love for each other as family. Chibs knew himself, knew he was probably the most expressive that way. If he looked into himself, he could probably pinpoint it to somewhere in his upbringing but he was never that introspective. “C'mon boyo.” Chibs pulled Juice in front of him and practically frog-marched him out of the clubhouse.

As he'd predicted Gemma and Clay were sitting by the benches, watching the boxing ring. Clay was puffing on his usual stogie and Gemma held his free hand tenderly. Bobby sat by them, though off to the side in the way he wasn't interrupting the king and queen's moment. And in the ring Happy, Tig, and Jax were wailing on each other in a three-way battle for supremacy. Chibs felt Juice's shoulders tense under his fingers, and in response Chibs couldn't help but squeeze. “Relax, Juice. Ain't gonna take much, an' like I said I promised ye some movies, aye?” When they got to a closer point he gave another shove, and walked behind the couple to sit next to Bobby. Enough that Juice could see him, know that he wasn't abandoned but far enough that it was clear that he had to do it on his own. He glanced at the ring, the three heavyweights clashing and panting. It would only have been a better show if Opie was here, but the man was still stuck in Chino. From this angle he could see Piney too, and had a feeling the eldest of them was thinking the same thing.

“So,” Bobby chuckled and dragged on his smoke, “you set a date yet?”

Chibs glared at him. “Shut up, Bobby. 'E's a jumpy young lad who needs some guidance. An' none o' you fuckers are steppin' up.” He knew that was bullshit even as he said it, but he had to have some sort of plausible deniability.

“Uhhh huh.” Bobby smirked, glancing towards Juice, Clay, and Gemma. It made Chibs have to look too; Clay was annoyed, Juice looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, and Gemma was smirking right back at Bobby, flicking her eyes towards Chibs. Shitfuck, she _knew_ something was up. “Brother, are you free this afternoon? Gotta make a quick trip to the warehouse.” Bobby took a drag off of his cigarette.

He should say he was free, just to get a little break from the ribbing but Chibs wasn't going to be made a liar. It would probably hurt Juice. “Nah, Tha' boy ain't seen _The Wild One_.” Bobby snickered. “Shut _up_ Elvis.” Chibs shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Jus' gonna show him a classic that _ye_ practically made required watching to get intae the Club.”

More laughter from the big man, and he dove into his kutte pocket. “Man, between you and the kid you should really have this. Tig gave it to me for dealin' with the exes but I think you two are going to need it more.” Bobby stuck a couple of joints into his hand, and then heaved himself up off the chair whistling what sounded like “Love Me Tender.” Chibs wasn't that good at identifying songs, especially Elvis' and especially not when his head was swirling a bit. He liked the the boy, wanted to get with the boy but it wasn't like that. Juice had a crush on him, he had a crush on Juice and once they fucked they'd get it out of their system. Fucking would just take a year.

Chibs sighed and leaned back in the chair, sticking the joints behind his ear and letting his hair hide it. Nothing more than to wait for Clay and Juice to get done, so he started to look at the fight. Tig had bowed out and Happy and Jax were going at it with a fierceness only reserved for fighting lions. Hopefully they'd have a run soon. They were liable to get into trouble, otherwise. And maybe Juice could drive the van next time.

Goddamnit.

 


End file.
